


Post the Night Guard

by plotweaver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fluff, M/M, protective!Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4894879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotweaver/pseuds/plotweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin overhears a lusty dwarf make some rather colorful comments about Bilbo. He overreacts, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post the Night Guard

The market was bustling with activity when Thorin arrived. Two months after the victory of the Battle of the Five Armies, and the dwarves had already found themselves well established in the mountain. He passed by stalls he knew as a dwarfling. The merchants, weathered by years and hardship, were busy making their old, charred stalls into something resembling the glory of old. 

It excited Thorin, but it didn't consume him like it once did. They were here. They were safe in the mountain. Glory would come, prosperity would come, but he no longer had an insatiable need for it. He had learned that there were far more important things than gold.

Like Bilbo.

His burglar walked along side him, practically bouncing with excitement. The market had been growing for several weeks, and Bilbo had expressed his interest in seeing it for quite some time. Thorin had to move a few appointments around to free up his morning, but Bilbo's look of wonder was worth a few disgruntled advisors.

"Thorin, look!" Bilbo's hand shot out to grab Thorin's arm. It was a fleeting touch, but it took Thorin a moment before he was able to focus on what Bilbo was pointing out to him. 

Shiny, squat nuts were laid on the table before them. Piles and piles of them - a deep brown treasure hoard. 

"Chestnuts!" Bilbo bent to pick up a few, his eyes wide. "I never thought I'd see these west of the Wood." 

Thorin smiled and inquired the cost.

"For you, Your Majesty? They are the fruits of your kingdom. Your birthright."

"There are chestnut trees near the mountain?" Bilbo smiled. "I would very much like to see those!"

"We will have to arrange an outing," Thorin said as he waved the dwarf's generous offer with a gesture of his hand. He extracted a handful of coins from the purse tucked into his furs and held them out.

"Would this be sufficient for a small satchel?"

"O-of course, Your Majesty!"

Thorin took the satchel from the merchant and offered it to Bilbo, along with a small smile.

"For me?" Bilbo asked. Thorin nodded. "Thank you."

The corners of Bilbo's mouth turned upward as he took the satchel from Thorin and moved on to the next merchant's stall. It was a private smile, one Thorin barely caught, but it made his heart soar like no amount of gold could.

The next stall glittered with beads of every metal and every jewel. Bilbo perused them with interest, asking the stall owner the meanings of each carving and their cultural significance. Thorin absently brushed a finger over a gold bead and tried in vain to keep the image of it entwined in Bilbo's hair out of his mind. A small braid by his temple, maybe. In firelight the bead would appear to be one with Bilbo's hair. A wonderful weaving of gold. The image filled Thorin's head and his heart pounded.

"Who was that come through here?" 

The harsh voice yanked Bilbo and the bead from Thorin's mind. He glanced around for the source. Shushing came from the chestnut stall. Thorin kept his eyes on the wares in front of him, but listened to the hushed voices despite himself.

"The king and the little burglar."

"The king?" the voice that had first caught his notice said.

"Yes, and the one from the Shire, as I just said," the chestnut merchant said.

"They buy anything?"

"The king bought a satchel. Gave it to the little one, and his eyes lit up like it was Durin's Day."

"Who? The king?"

"No, the burglar." The merchant sighed. "If I was but fifty years younger..."

"What?"

The merchants voice dipped a little lower and Thorin strained to hear him. "I'd dress him in jewels and lay him out on the chestnuts he loves. I'd fuck him so well he'd be calling me king." 

Laughter sounded from the chestnut stall and Thorin felt sick. Red leaked in the edges of his vision and his mouth tasted bitter. His hand trembled over the gold bead. For casual outings in the mountain such as these, Thorin only carried a small dagger, if only so he wouldn't feel so wanting without his usual armory. Yet, he would have been happy to find some creative uses for the dagger on the laughing chestnut merchant.

A warm hand covered his own, and Thorin looked into hazel eyes.

"Are you all right, Thorin?" Bilbo said.

Thorin let the warmth of Bilbo's hand anchor him. He felt it send a tingle up his arm, let it spread in his chest. Thorin switched their hands, so his was atop Bilbo's. He caressed Bilbo's hand with a finger as he had the bead. 

Then he remembered himself and brought his hand back to his side.

"Yes. I'm fine. Shall we continue to the next merchant?"

\--- 

Thorin found himself in front of the hobbit's door that night, with an axe in his hand. He had more than enough guards to spare for a watch on Bilbo's door, but after what he'd heard, he couldn't entrust such an important duty to anyone else.

It was ridiculous, really. He wondered at how easily he was pushed to this response. Irrational, inexplicable protectiveness shot like lightening through his muscles at the very thought of someone trying to force their way into Bilbo's chambers.

If it was someone that Bilbo wanted, if it was someone that he desired, he'd let them through. That's what he kept telling himself, even if his stomach twisted at the thought. He couldn't deny Bilbo anything.

But what if it was one of those merchants he had caught talking of Bilbo so rudely? No, Thorin thought as he recalled the merchant's large nose and pockmarked face, Bilbo wouldn't. Not with him.

Thorin had no idea what sort of person Bilbo would let into his bed, however. It was not something they discussed. The very idea of someone so close to Bilbo, the two of them wrapped in soft sheets and heat, was more than Thorin could bear. 

He was adjusting his angry grip around the axe when he heard an approach from his left. 

He knew those pathetic merchants would try something. The footsteps were approaching quickly, and Thorin crouched, readying himself.

He gave his mind over to his battle instincts a little too easily. A small part of his brain noted this, wondered at it, before it was pushed aside. Fierce protectiveness ached in his chest and heightened his senses. Two more seconds and the intruder would be around the corner.

He tensed and sprung.

The handle of his axe collided with a hard skull. A second too late, Thorin realized that he lunged forward with too much power. He knocked the offender over, but lost his footing and fell on top of him. 

"Och!" 

He knew that voice. He had heard it in every combat training, in every bout of boyish wrestling.

"Dwalin?"

Anger rose, hot, in Thorin's throat. Reason and logical thought evaded him. Such things take too much time when you catch your best friend sneaking into your hobbit's chambers late into the night. Thorin clamored to his feet and allowed Dwalin to do the same. He did not go so far as to point his axe at his Captain of the Guard, but he kept his grip tight around his weapon.

"What are you doing here?" Thorin hissed.

"I could ask you the same," Dwalin said. "No one in the entire mountain knew where you are. Do I have to remind you that you have a delegation from Dale visiting tomorrow and we both know you're a right arse when you haven't enough sleep?"

"You were looking for me?"

Dwalin gave Thorin a look that he could not read. "If you are not in your own chambers, you have a habit of finding your way to our burglar's."

Thorin opened his mouth, ready to respond, when the door behind him creaked open.

"Thorin? Dwalin?" Bilbo's voice was thick with sleep.

Thorin's eyes darted about wildly for something, anything, to give him an excuse for being at Bilbo's door in the middle of the night. Belatedly, he remembered his axe and made a half-hearted move to conceal it. Dwalin stifled a chuckle next to him, and Thorin resisted the urge to jab him in the side with a sharp elbow.

"What are you doing here?" Bilbo's hair was mussed and his dressing gown was loose. It was a moment before Thorin found his voice to respond.

"Dwalin and I were headed to the kitchens. For tomorrow. Tomorrow's delegation menu." Thorin cleared his throat and forced himself to look Bilbo in the eye. "Would you like us to bring something for you?"

"Oh! No, I'm quite well. Goodnight." Bilbo's eyes drooped as he nodded and closed the door.

Thorin stood staring at the dark door for a moment, trying to ignore the amusement he could feel radiating off of Dwalin behind him. He eventually turned and took his friend by the elbow down the hall.

"What in Mahal's bloody beard was that?" Dwalin said once they had gone a considerable distance.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"'Would you like us to bring something for you?'" Dwalin mocked. 

"I was being considerate."

"Yes, guarding the burglar's door with an axe is quite considerate." Dwalin was openly grinning now. 

"He could have been in danger." Thorin felt silly saying in out loud, but Dwalin instantly sobered and asked him what he knew of this danger.

Thorin reluctantly told him of what transpired in the market that day. He told him of the chestnut merchant and his crude remarks toward Bilbo. He left out the magnitude of the anger he felt and how Bilbo brought him back.

When he was finished, Dwalin looked at him with exasperation and amusement.

"That bastard has wanted to fuck every other thing with a pulse that comes through the market." When he saw that Thorin wasn't placated by this, Dwalin continued. "It's common knowledge. You just don't hear it 'cause you're King." Dwalin cleared his throat, looking down. "Just like it's common knowledge that Bilbo is... special. He's not one to mess around with." Dwalin seemed like he wanted to say more, but he fell silent. Thorin grumbled, not entirely pleased. "If it would ease your mind and let you focus on tomorrow, I'll post trusted guards at his door. Maybe Fili and Kili will do it, if I tell them it's a high priority concern." They both smiled at that. "Get your arse to bed, Thorin."

Thorin nodded. He was grateful for his friend. Grateful that he didn't have to voice these irrational feelings.

"Besides," Dwalin said, "you could always have his dick chopped off for lusting after your hobbit." Thorin laughed a little and continued on to his chambers.

It wasn't until he was undressing in his rooms that he realized Dwalin had referred to Bilbo as Thorin's hobbit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! This piece did give me a bit of trouble. 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and you can always find me on tumblr as plotweaver!


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